


there was this boy who broke my heart in two

by dontbitethesun



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Genderfuck, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-27
Updated: 2011-11-27
Packaged: 2017-10-26 14:10:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/284174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontbitethesun/pseuds/dontbitethesun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anna comes back as a dude. He hits on Dean. This makes Dean uncomfortable, but only because Aneal's not Cas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	there was this boy who broke my heart in two

Sam and Dean are on their way to check out a potential case in Chicago when Dean gets a call from Chuck.

"Dean, you will meet an old friend today,” Chuck says. “Try not to be alarmed."

"Dude, you sound like a fortune cookie," Dean says.

“I’m just trying to look out for you,” Chuck says. He sounds mildly defensive.

"Whatever. Why are you calling me? Giving us warnings about the future isn't exactly your style."

"It's just that-" Chuck pauses. “Please don’t get mad.”

"Just spit it out, Chuck, I don't have all day."

"I can't stand to see you cry anymore," Chuck says in a rush.

"I don't-" Dean begins to say, strangely high-pitched. He pauses, and lowers his voice to it's gruffest, manliest register. "I do not cry."

Sam starts snickering quietly into his hand in the passenger seat beside him. Dean glares at him.

"One hundred-some Supernatural books say otherwise."

"Jesus Christ, how many of those things have you written?"

"Enough to know that you do cry, kind of a lot. It bums me out, man."

"I-" Dean starts to deny, again, before remembering this is a phone call and he doesn't actually have to keep talking to Chuck if he doesn't want to. "You know what," he says, "I'm hanging up now."

Sam’s no longer laughing quietly as Dean slides his phone back into his pocket. “He says you cry?” Sam manages to choke out between laughs. “Am I going to die again? Are you going to sob uncontrollably over my dead body?”

“Shut up, Sam,” Dean growls. He hadn’t meant to sound so gruff, so he clears his throat and adds, “Don’t even joke about that.”

Sam is completely unrepentant. “What are you going to do about it?” he asks, grinning. “Cry some more?”

“I’m driving us into a semi,” Dean states, deadpan.

“And risk scratching your precious car? Not likely.”

“I hate you.”

“That’s not what you said the last time I died.”

-

After checking into a new motel once they reach Chicago, they swing by the scene of the crime to investigate, where, of course, they find Cas. There’s another man standing behind him, the sharp, crisp lines of his suit making Cas look more disheveled than normal with his rumpled trench coat and undone tie.

“Great. So this case is another one of your heavenly holy weapons gone amok,” Dean says as soon as he sees Cas, an irritated bite to his voice.

“Belial’s Necklace,” the other angel supplies.

“Who’s the new flunky?” Dean asks, nodding towards the new guy.

Cas glances between Dean and the aforementioned flunky. “Dean, I believe you already know Aneal.”

“An-e-who?” Dean repeats, studying the guy – Aneal, apparently – more closely. He’s pretty sure he’s never seen him before.

“Anna,” Aneal adds helpfully.

“What? No way. I saw Michael kill her.” Dean wants to add the fairly obvious, _and besides, Anna was a girl and you’re a dude,_ but of course angels don’t work that way.

“Michael did destroy my body, but it was more of a send me to my room to think about what I’d done than a destroying my grace kind of thing,” Aneal answers.

“Shit,” Dean says, anger flaring. He’s been pissed since the apocalypse, and Sam sacrificing himself and then coming back not entirely himself hasn’t helped matters at all, with all that anger just building up with nowhere to go. And now, Anna’s back, the same Anna that went back in time and tried to kill his family. Not to mention, now she’s a dude, which, on the one hand is pretty weird since they slept together and all, and on the other is kind of convenient because maybe now he can direct some of that anger at Aneal and hit him or something and not feel so bad about hitting a girl.

“I wanted to say–” Aneal begins, but Dean cuts him off.

“I don’t want to hear it.”

Dean really, really wants to hit him. Maybe he should use the angel sword rather than his fragile, human hand. After all, hitting Cas that time in the angelic green room had hurt like hell. Cas is standing right there beside him, so Dean makes a grab for the angel sword from the pocket Dean knows he keeps it in. He gets lucky and catches Cas off guard, managing to get the sword away from him and point it towards Aneal.

“Dean,” Cas says, warning tone in his voice. “I wouldn’t do that.”

Aneal moves like lightning, one fist landing squarely in Dean’s face while the other hand sweeps Cas’ sword out of Dean’s grasp where it clatters to the floor.

“Son of a _bitch_ ,” Dean swears, bringing a hand up to cradle his nose. He knows Aneal must have been holding back since he didn’t go flying across the room from the force of the punch, but he can feel the pinprick of tears forming in the corner of his eyes.

“I’m not crying!” he says, before anyone – meaning Sam – can say that he is.

“Shit, Dean, your nose is bleeding,” is what Sam actually says. It almost sounds like brotherly concern.

“Oh no,” Aneal says. He reaches out to touch Dean’s arm, but Dean backs away from his touch. “I was trying to be careful.”

“Dean,” Cas asks, “are you alright?”

“Here, let me just –” Aneal tries again, reaching his out hand.

“Don’t touch me,” Dean snaps. Cas looks like he might try to convince Dean otherwise and let one of them heal him, so he sighs and says, “I’ll be fine. Sam and I’ll just head back to the motel, let you two handle this one on your own.”

“Are you sure?” Sam asks, though Dean thinks it’s more out of interest in seeing another holy weapon than any concern for him.

“Positive,” Dean answers. At this point he just wants to get out of there and wallow in his motel room, and never, ever see Aneal again.

-

Later, back in the motel room with a wad of tissue held up to his nose, Dean is waiting for his brother to come back from the ice machine when his phone beeps. He fishes it out of his pocket and finds a text from Chuck.

 _I did try to warn you,_ the text reads.

Dean tosses his phone to the end of the bed so he won’t be tempted to block Chuck’s number. Just in case he actually needs to call him later for something important.

-

The next day, when Sam’s off at the Laundromat and Dean’s back in their motel room with a new bag of ice help up to his nose, there’s a knock on the door. He opens it and finds Aneal on the other side. Dean’s less than pleased to see him. He does his best to glare, but the bag of ice apparently gets in the way, since Aneal doesn’t leave.

“I’m impressed you know how to knock,” Dean comments dryly, so used to Cas just appearing without notice.

“You mean unlike Castiel, right?” Aneal says, with a grin so similar to the one Dean remembers seeing on her previous human form. “I did spend twenty years as a human, after all.”

“Where is Cas, anyway?”

“Tracking down leads,” Aneal answers. “We know Belial’s Necklace is here, but we can’t figure out who has it.”

“So why are you here?”

“I wanted to apologize. I really didn’t mean to hurt you yesterday,” Aneal says. He sounds sincere, but Dean’s still pretty pissed at him.

“Right, like you didn’t try to kill my parents. Or disperse Sam’s component parts across the universe, or whatever you meant to do.”

“I’m sorry for that too. At the time, I thought it was the only option.” He gives Dean another small smile, this one with a hint of white teeth. “Now, I know better. You and Sam did good, despite my interference.”

“Well, that is true,” Dean grudgingly concedes.

“Let me make it up to you,” Aneal says. “Think you’d even let me heal you now?”

“Sure, fine,” Dean grumbles. “And then, you’re going to buy me my weight in beer.”

-

Aneal takes him to a swanky, up-scale bar that’s a short walk from Dean’s motel.

“A pitcher of whatever’s on tap,” Aneal orders.

“And keep ‘em coming,” Dean adds.

Aneal makes sure that they do. After Dean drinks enough beer to start stumbling over Aneal’s name, he decides to just shorten it. “What is with your stupid angel names anyway?” Dean demands. “I’m just going to call you Neal.”

Aneal – Neal – smiles softly. “Okay,” he says, “I like that.”

“So Neal,” Dean says, over-annunciating his newest angel nickname. “Does it suck to be all angel-fied again?”

“Sometimes. You know what I miss the most?” Neal asks.

“Chocolate?” Dean guesses.

“Close, but no. I really miss sex,” he sighs.

“Sex,” Dean echoes. “I like sex.” He really has had a lot to drink.

“Well,” Neal says, “that's good,” and leans in to kiss him.

Dean kisses back automatically, without thinking. When his mind catches up with his mouth, he thinks about pulling away but Neal’s lips are soft against his and it feels good, so he goes with it, bringing his hand up to tangle in Neal’s short, dark hair.

A few moments later, Neal pauses, his mouth inches away from Dean's. "You like this," Neal says, voice husky, "I can tell."

He slides his hand up Dean's arm, brushes his fingers over the handprint he knows is there. Cas' handprint. Dean's eyes flutter shut.

"Your eyes are dilated," Neal says, leaning in to place kisses along Dean's jaw. "Your heartbeat is racing."

"Oh god," Dean says, breathless, "I…"

Someone loudly clears his throat behind them.

"Aneal, what exactly do you think you're doing?" Cas asks.

"Cas," Dean gasps, surprised. "What are you- how did you - what did I tell you about just appearing out of nowhere like that?"

"I walked in the front door," Cas says drolly.

“Right,” Dean says, “of course you did.” His mind is still scattered, and he can’t manage to straighten out his thoughts.

“What’s up, Castiel?” Neal asks.

“I’ve tracked down the Necklace,” Cas answers. “I require your assistance retrieving it.”

“Right,” Neal answers, dragging his hand across Dean's thigh as he stands to leave. Dean flinches so hard, he almost falls out of his seat.

"Aneal, honestly," Cas says, shaking his head and turning towards the door.

Neal laughs, giving Dean one last wave as he follows after Cas. Dean sits alone long after they’ve left, staring blankly towards the door.

“I really need another beer,” he finally concludes.

-

“I see you and your angel boyfriend made up,” Sam says when Dean makes it back to the motel.

“No! We– what? Who has an angel boyfriend?”

“Um, you? I meant that your nose is fine again. I figure he fixed it. What did you think?”

“Definitely not that I got drunk and made out with Neal at a bar.” Dean’s not usually this forthcoming. He’s obviously still buzzed.

“No, I was talking about you and Cas – Wait. What do you mean you kissed Neal? Aneal? What is it with you giving the angels nicknames?”

“Cas?” Dean repeats, stuck on the first part of what Sam said. “Cas is not my angel boyfriend.”

“Okay, maybe not yet,” Sam concedes, “but you can’t tell me that you don’t want him to be.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Look, I know you can be pretty dense sometimes, but maybe you should give it some thought.”

“Whatever, asshole,” Dean answers.

“Where are you going?” Sam asks as Dean stomps out of the room.

“To get some fresh air.”

-

Dean leans back against his car, trying to clear his head.

The things that Dean had liked about Anna were girly – her long hair brushing across his chest, her soft feminine curves, her wide, dewy eyes staring down at him.

Neal, on the other hand is nothing like that. He’s got stubble and he’s too tall, with muscles that are a rival for Dean’s own, not to mention Dean doesn’t usually go for guys. Neal is just too manly to be his type.

Except.

Dean’s not really bothered by the fact that person he was kissing had a dick. He hadn’t minded the brush of light stubble against his cheek, or that Neal is probably strong enough to hold him down even without the super-angel strength. The thing is that the stubble, the strength, and the dick all add up to the wrong angel.

“Shit,” Dean swears, his breath fogging up in the cool night air. “I _do_ want to kiss Cas.”

Sam is going to gloat so bad when he finds out he was right. Dean almost doesn’t want to tell him, but apparently he’s not so good at keeping things secret, even things he hadn’t even realized himself.

-

Dean paces for another half hour before finally summoning the courage to give Cas a call.

“So, uh, did you track down your holy weapon thing?” Dean asks when Cas appears in front of him, a frown on his face.

“Yes, the necklace has been secured,” Cas answers, “but I don’t think that’s why you called me here.”

“Right, so here’s the thing,” Dean says, “I like you, Cas. I’ve liked you for a long time.”

Cas makes a face like he’s adding up all the women Dean’s slept with that prove otherwise, but instead all he says is, “But you were kissing Aneal. Not even four hours ago.”

“Okay, yes,” Dean says, scuffing his toe against the pavement. “But I was pretty drunk. And he started it.”

Cas does not look convinced. “You seemed to like it. Your heart was pounding and I think I saw tongue.”

“Right,” Dean says and decides it’s time to try a physical approach. He reaches his hand up and smoothes back the hair along Cas’ hairline, just above his ear. Cas doesn’t move into Dean’s hand, but he doesn’t move away either, just stares up at Dean, waiting.

“I get that I haven’t done much to prove this, in fact it took long enough to admit it to myself, but all I’m asking for is a chance.”

Cas studies him for a long time, staring into Dean’s eyes in that penetrating, soul-searching kind of way he has. Finally, he says, “Okay.”

Dean smiles at Cas, who’s still standing more than a foot away. He settles his hand against the small of Cas’ back and pulls Cas towards him. Cas takes one step closer to him, but otherwise doesn’t move, arms still hanging straight down at his sides.

“Can I kiss you?” Dean asks, suddenly nervous that he and Cas aren’t on the same page.

“Yes, of course,” Cas answers, sounding mildly annoyed that Dean is stopping to ask stupid questions rather than getting right to the point.

“Of course,” Dean echoes, licking his lips before leaning down to kiss Cas. As soon as his mouth covers Cas’, Cas surges forward in response. Okay, so they’re definitely both on the same page.

Dean brings a hand up to the back of Cas’ neck, adjusting the angle of the kiss. Cas moans Dean’s name against his lips, his hands settling at Dean’s waist, fisted tightly in the flannel shirt Dean’s wearing beneath his leather jacket.

Cas finally pulls back with a sigh. “Your heart’s not pounding so hard with me,” he says. He sounds regretful, but Dean just grins.

“Because you,” Dean says, rolling Cas’ bottom lip lightly between his teeth, “don’t make me nervous.”

“Is that so,” Cas answers, or tries to answer, the words coming out muffled against Dean’s lips.

-

So, sex with Anna touching the handprint had been pretty hot, but as it turns out, sex with the angel who put the handprint on him is a hell of a lot better. He can’t wait to try it again.

Sam wakes them up the next morning by tapping on the window of the Impala. “Busted,” he says, then makes a face at their half-dressed, rumpled state. “You’d better air the car out before we leave for the next hunt. I am not driving to Arizona in a car that smells like sex.”

-

“So,” Sam mocks later at the diner where they stop for breakfast, “you and Cas. In the backseat of the Impala. Was it beautiful? Did you cry a little?”

Dean narrows his eyes, leans forward and says, conspiratorially, “Yeah, it was real magical when Cas put his–”

“Whoa,” Sam says, shaking his hands in front of him. “That’s enough. I don’t need any details.”

Cas casually puts his arm across the back of the booth and when Dean leans back, satisfied, his shoulders brush against Cas’ arm.

Dean eyes him warily. “What are you doing?” he asks.

“Is this not how couples interact in public places?”

Dean’s not really sure how to answer that, so he just says, “Whatever. Just try to keep the touching to a minimum.”

Cas sighs and drops his arm. Dean tries to scoot a couple inches away, but he's boxed in between the angel and the window, so he’s still bumping elbows with Cas every time he moves.

“This,” Neal says, sliding into the booth next to Sam and nodding towards Dean and Cas, “is so unfair. I figured Dean would be easy, because, well… but no, he has to realize he has feelings for Castiel right after we kiss.”

“I saw him first,” Cas says, leaning forward to add cream to Dean’s coffee before taking a sip himself. Dean’s about to protest, but Cas’ shoulder brushes the handprint on his arm when he moves and Dean shivers, still sensitive from last night.

“It’s just that I really miss sex,” Neal pouts. “And I don’t get a lot of downtime on Earth.”

Sam makes a face while Dean stuffs half his sausage into his mouth. “I don’t know why you’re both after him. He’s not exactly a great catch,” Sam says.

“And you are?” Dean demands, chewing with his mouth open.

Neal turns to look at Sam speculatively. “You’re not actually half bad,” he says.

“No, hell no,” Sam says.

“It might be fun,” Neal says, leaning closer.

“No fucking way,” Sam answers. “You slept with my brother.”

Neal grins seductively. “Not in this body.”

Sam makes a distressed bitchface. Across the table, Dean laughs. Even Cas looks amused.

Dean’s cell phone rings. It is, of course, Chuck.

“I did not cry when Cas and I – you know. Last night, in the car,” Dean immediately denies, a little too loudly, figuring that’s why Chuck called.

“Yes, Dean,” Chuck slurs, “I do know, I saw every. Single. Horrifying second.”

“Oh, sorry dude.” Dean does not sound sheepish at all. “Are you drunk?”

“Yes,” Chuck answers, “That's why I’m calling. Can I talk to Castiel – I need to know if there's a way to get rid of these visions or give them to Becky or something.”

Cas takes the phone. After listening for a moment, he says, “No, Chuck, you can not leave out ‘the dirty parts.’ My relationship with Dean is very important to future generations.”

“Oh god,” Dean says. Sam smirks at him, glad the tables have turned and he’s no longer the center of attention.

“Oh really,” Cas says when Chuck apparently starts telling him exactly what he and Dean are going to do tomorrow night. He sounds intrigued. “I did not know you could do that with a–”

“Stop right there,” Dean says, loudly interrupting his boyfriend and yanking the phone out of Cas’ hand. “Why are you telling him these things?”

“Because I had to see everything. I saw your naked ass, I saw Castiel’s hand on your naked ass before it moved around to your–”

“Oh god,” Dean says again, and puts the phone down so he can only hear the tinny sound of Chuck's voice and not the actually words. From the looks on Cas’ and Neal’s faces, they can hear exactly what Chuck's still saying. Stupid angelic super hearing.

“Does everyone need to know about my sex life?” Dean groans into his hands.

“Well, when you're yelling about it in a public dinner, I’d have to say so,” the waitress says from behind him. Dean flushes bright red when he turns around and finally notices that the entire diner is staring at him. “You and your sweetheart need anything else?” the waitress asks.

“Coffee?” Dean says in a tiny, tiny voice.

She hmphs and walks off to get the coffee pot.

“My life is over,” Dean moans once she’s out of earshot.

“There, there,” Cas says, patting him awkwardly on the shoulder. He even leans over and gives him a kiss. On the fucking forehead.

“Screw this,” Dean says, and kisses him right on the mouth. With tongue. In front of everyone.

“Damnit,” Neal says, frowning at them. “I really, really miss sex.”


End file.
